Somewhere beyond the city, maybe up north, in Maine, the warmth is thickening on the breeze, the mud is hardening underhoof, and voices are swelling on the branches. And a donkey with no place to go is losing himself, in the fragrance of needles and pine.
Hey, a dating site! Maybe I should fill out a profile.
Age: I don’t know, I’ve never cut myself in half to count the rings
Height: I’m not as tall as I think I am
Weight: That’s not polite
Self summary: I’m a sphere whose center is everywhere and circumference is nowhere
I’m good at: Filling out profile questionnaires
The first thing that others notice about me: That I accidentally stepped on their foot
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, food:
books: Remembrance of Pies Past (Marcel Proust), A clean, well-lighted bakery (Hemingway), Where is Ralph Waldo? (Emerson), What’s that in the Attic? (Emily Dickenson), Donkey Hotey (Cervantes), The Idiot’s Guide to Animal Husbandry
music: You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd (Roger Miller), L’apres midi d’une Trombone (Debussy), Bach’s concerto for trombone and cymbal in C flat minor seventh, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata for Seventy-Six Trombones
movies and shows: Babbling Brook (ambient dvd), Ocean Waves (ambient dvd), Mountain Majesty (ambient dvd), The Jerry Remy Postgame Show
food: organic, sustainably grown, local, free-range, alfalfa-fed pumpkins (from Pablo’s garden)
I spend a lot of time thinking about:
Thermonuclear physics, string theory, the event
horizon, if Pluto is a planet, how many angels can fit on the head of a donkey, what that smell is
On a typical Friday night I am:
Wondering what night of the week it is
You should message me if: You need an empty pie tin, you found my wristwatch, you lost your Wi-Fi connection, you have an extra pumpkin pie
This is a very nice barn, thought Blurtso. The roof doesn’t leak and there is plenty of hay. I can stand here all day if I want to. While the rest of the world runs frantically toward and away from things, I can stand here all day… I suppose we can put up with almost anything as long as we have a safe place to go.
There goes another snowflake, said Blurtso. I like to watch things that fall—leaves, feathers, snowflakes—things just a little heavier than air. There’s something relaxing in watching them let go, something soothing in their acceptance and lack of direction, their trust in the cycle… of soil and stars.
I guess there’s not much snow in Borneo, said Blurtso. No, said Harlan, but there are many palm trees. I like palm trees, said Blurtso. So do I, said Harlan, there’s nothing like napping in a palm grove… listening to the wind in the leaves, and feeling the shadows on your skin. Yes, said Blurtso, a palm grove is a great place to nap, and so is a recliner, under a palapa next to the sea. Yes, said Harlan, there’s nothing like napping to the sound of waves, with a cap pulled down on your eyes. A Red Sox cap? said Blurtso. Of course, said Harlan. The snow is nice too, said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan, there’s nothing like napping in a loft, with a cup of hot cocoa, listening to the slosh of cars in the street. Yes, said Blurtso, or napping under an oak, on a summer day, in an empty field in Maine. I still can’t believe, said Harlan, the Red Sox didn’t win the World Series.
I suppose some people get depressed at Christmas, said Blurtso. And New Year’s, said Harlan. I suppose, said Blurtso, the memories make you reflect on what you do and don’t have. Too often, said Harlan, on what you don’t. Is there any more cocoa? said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan, plenty. And whipped cream? Yes, said Harlan, a full can.